


Strange Knight

by Azar, DebC, Nightdancer (Azar)



Category: Forever Knight, Strange Luck
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-14
Updated: 2011-08-14
Packaged: 2017-10-22 14:43:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azar/pseuds/Azar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebC/pseuds/DebC, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azar/pseuds/Nightdancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chance Harper travels to Toronto...and finds a whole new kind of trouble there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was co-written in a series of letters (yes, the snail mail kind) between the two of us back when we were in college. I don't remember the exact date, but both shows had only recently gone off the air.
> 
> Lyrics quoted in part two are from the _Forever Knight_ soundtrack.

Chance Harper was already worried by the time he stepped off the plane in Toronto that night. Very worried. The flight had been uneventful, which either meant that his luck had suddenly gone away--though that was unlikely--or that something even weirder than normal was waiting for him somewhere in the city. At least, he hoped it was the latter. He had to admit, if his luck ever did decide to abandon him, he'd be a very bored man. It's much easier to go from a normal life to an eventful one than the other way around.

When he had gotten his bags, rented his car and left the parking garage, all still without incident, Chance really became concerned. If something didn't happen soon, he was going to stop in the middle of the road and wait for it to.

At that moment, a car came out of nowhere and smashed into him, driving the rental into the side of the alley and crumpling its expensive hood against the bricks like wax paper. Chance's first thought was one of triumphant delight--he was right, his gift hadn't abandoned him after all--but it was quickly followed by the sickening realization that his almost brand-new rental car had just been rendered useless.

A second later, a blue classic Cadillac convertible came screeching around the corner. It pulled to an abrupt halt, and the two men in the car jumped out. They yelled something at the driver of the vehicle that had hit him, waving guns in that direction. Apparently they were with the police, because the other man slowly got out and put his hands on top of the car. The shorter and heavier of the two officers, whose hair was already in an advanced state of recession, cuffed the driver. The other one, a thin man with dark blond hair and a pale complexion, approached the smashed rental car.

 "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Chance nodded, reaching down to open the door. It was jammed.

"I'd be fine if I could get out," he muttered with a smile.

Returning the smile, the cop reached down and gave a sharp tug to the door. It came open almost too easily, and the photographer stumbled out.

The other cop approached them, leading the man in handcuffs. He whistled at the sight of Chance's car--or rather, his former car. It looked more like a TV dinner wrapped in tinfoil now. "If you'd pulled into that intersection a second earlier, he probably would have broadsided you. You're are one lucky man, mister."

Chance smiled mysteriously. "So I've been told." He raised a hand in greeting to the man who had helped him out of the car. "I'm Chance Harper."

"Detective Nick Knight. This is my partner, Don Schanke."

"Pleased to meet you," Schanke contributed. "Now, excuse me while I go book this guy." He disappeared in the direction of a police car which had apparently also been a part of the chase.

"I'm sorry about your car," Nick offered. "Would you like to use my cell phone to call a tow truck?"

Chance nodded. "And the rental company, if you don't mind. I'm just glad I bought the insurance." He flashed the detective a carefree grin.

This elicited a faint smile from the other man. "It's a rental car?"

He nodded again. "Just picked it up at the airport about ten minutes ago."

"Well, if it's any help, I will vouch for the fact that the accident was in no way your fault."

Chance stifled a chuckle. I wouldn't be so sure about that, knowing my luck... "I'd appreciate it. Thanks."

Nick handed the other man his cell phone, then walked over to speak with Schanke while Chance dialed the number of the rental agency. A few moments later, the photographer approached the two detectives. The look on his face was somehow frustrated, relieved, upset and pleased at the same time. Nick was speaking with one of the officers in the squad car, so Chance directed his next words to the other cop.

"They're coming to get the car, but they won't give me a new one for a couple of days. Which leaves me without transportation in the interim." He sounded almost amused.

Schanke grimaced. "Tough break. Kinda spoils the vacation plans, huh?"

Chance smiled. Vacation wasn't usually a word he associated with himself, since it implied relaxation and relative calm. "Actually, I'm here on a business trip, sort of."

"What kind of business?"

"I'm a freelance photographer. I'm working on a photo essay."

Schanke nodded, looking up as Nick approached them. "The kid's without wheels for a couple of days."

Nick nodded. "I could give you a ride to your hotel, if you like. As long as you don't mind coming to the precinct with us first."

Chance agreed readily. "That'll be fine."

Grinning, Schanke slapped him firmly on the back. "Great! Then we can all go out for souvlaki afterwards!"

* * *

(The precinct, later that night)

Nick and Schanke led the photographer into the bustling precinct. Following close behind them were two uniformed officers with the man they'd just arrested...thanks to Chance.

"Why don't you tell Cohen about our guest here? I, um, have to talk to Nat," Nick told his partner as he spotted the coroner talking with another officer. Schanke led Chance into Amanda Cohen's office, trying to decide how to tell her about the photographer's intriguingly integral role in catching the suspect in the O'Shea case. His partner approached Natalie and the female officer she was speaking to.

"Who's your friend?" the M.E. asked.

"Friend?" Nick echoed.

"The guy who came in with you and Schanke..." Nat shot him a questioning look.

"Oh, him! His name is Chance Harper. He's a photographer from Seattle." He explained how Chance had inadvertently helped them catch the guy they were chasing. "I offered to give him a lift to the hotel after work tonight," he concluded.

The coroner shook her head, laughing. "The poor guy. First night in town and he's wrecked his rental car, apprehended a criminal, and now he has to put up with you!" The other officer giggled slightly at their banter, but Nick began to frown. Seeing his frown, Nat sobered a bit. "I was joking, Nick. Lighten up, would you?"

Still looking uncomfortable, he said, "I'd like to talk to you, Nat...if you can spare a moment." He smiled at the other cop and walked away.

"Geez! What's gotten into him?" Nat asked her friend, who shrugged.

* * *

(an empty office)

"What did you want to talk about?" she asked as Nick closed the door firmly behind them.

"About what happened Saturday." He didn't look directly at her.

Saturday had been on Nat's mind as well, but probably for a different reason. They'd spent the day in the loft, watching movies and talking. Nick had been in an exceptionally warm and friendly mood...and then they'd kissed. The kiss had been something they'd both wanted, or at least that's how it seemed to her. But just as it was getting good and she thought they'd finally have some form of intimacy, he pushed her away and ordered her to leave. She'd protested, but he kept insisting. Then she did leave, angrily telling him she wouldn't be back for a long while. That had been five days ago.

And Nick just now wants to talk about it? "What happened Saturday, Nick? Refresh my memory." Nat's voice was harsh.

"I...I didn't mean for it to work out that way. But..." Now he looked at her, hurt and frustration in his eyes. "We shouldn't have kissed, Nat. It was wrong. I could hurt you."

"Nick, you say that all the time! It was a kiss. One simple kiss, and a nice one at that. I enjoyed it, why can't you?"

"Because I can't let myself. Not with you, Nat. Not until I'm mortal again."

"But you can let yourself with Janette? Don't think I don't know why you spend so much time at the Raven, Nick. I know full well that every time we get a little too close for your comfort you go running to her." Nat's eyes flashed.

"Leave Janette out of this!" Nick's eyes were glowing, and he had to fight off the beast within him. "Janette is my friend, Nat. What should it matter if I go to her for comfort?"

"If comfort was all you went to her for, it wouldn't matter," she spat at him.

Catching the innuendo and feeling guilty at the truth of it, Nick turned and left abruptly. The door slammed shut behind him.

Sinking down into a chair behind the empty desk, Nat began to cry. _I shouldn't have pushed the issue. It needed to be said, but I really shouldn't have pushed it. Why couldn't I have just let him apologize?_

* * *

Nick was lost in thought as he drove Chance to his hotel. Thoughts of Natalie, Saturday and Janette floated through his mind. He paused on the thought of Janette. She could always ease his troubled blood. No one else could do that.

Sighing, he tried to push the frustration he'd been carrying around for five days aside. But he knew he couldn't. If it weren't for Chance, he would go to the Raven to see her tonight. He'd feel better then.

"Um, Knight? I asked you a question." Chance's voice broke into Nick's thoughts.

"Hmmm?" Nick asked.

"I asked if you could help me with my shoot. I'm doing a photo essay comparing the night life here in Canada with what it's like in the U.S. I was wondering if you might be familiar with a few of the hot spots in the area."

"Hot spots? Clubs?" The question led him back to thinking about Janette. He smiled dreamily.

"Yeah, clubs. You know of any?" Chance was starting to think there was something odd about this cop. He'd been in the precinct long enough to see Nick lock himself in the office with the M.E., then storm out of it a few minutes later. After that, the rumors that started flying around were as easy to pick up as shells on the beach. So did they or didn't they have a thing going? And what about this odd silence?

"Um...yeah. The Raven. I'm going there tomorrow on my night off. I could pick you up if you'd like." The cop pulled up in front of the hotel. "Need help with your luggage?" he asked.

"No, I can manage...and sure, I'd love to see the Raven. What time?"

They set a time for Nick to show up and Chance disappeared inside the hotel. Nick went home, still occupied by thoughts of Janette.


	2. Chapter 2

Nick led Chance into the Raven, feeling a bit uneasy about bringing him there. _What was I thinking to suggest it in the first place?_ he asked himself. He glanced over at the photographer, who was taking in the scenery with eagle-eyed curiosity. "The owner is a friend of mine. I don't think she'll mind if you interact with the patrons a little bit. But...we should clear it with her first."

Chance nodded, scanning the crowded club for anyone who looked like they might be the owner. "Which one is she?" he asked Nick..

The other man was also scanning the room for Janette. "I don't see her just--" He stopped in mid-sentence as she emerged from behind the beaded curtain, wearing a skin-tight, black strapless dress. It was accented in red, lacy ruffles about the shoulders and hem line, with red lacing up the bodice that held in her firm, ample breasts. Nick's eyes traveled down the ensemble...appreciating it fully. Her black high-heel shoes and the placement of the hem line on the dress made her legs look a mile long. His eyes traced the criss-cross path of the bodice hungrily.

While Nick stood there, unable to take his eyes from her, Janette noticed him and wove her way through the crowd to where he stood enthralled and Chance looked more than a bit confused. "Wow..." Chance muttered in the detective's ear. He barely nodded in response as she came to stand next to them.

" _Nicolas_!" Janette exclaimed, greeting him with a quick hug.

Her body touched his ever so lightly, yet it scattered his thoughts completely. "Janette..." he breathed. "I...um..." He looked at Chance, hoping to regain his composure. "I..." His eyes flitted back to the clever neckline on her dress. "Ummm..." He meant to introduce the photographer to her, but the only thing coming to his mind was seeing how easily that dress would come off her body. "Yeah..." he sighed at the thought.

As Nick stammered, Janette rolled her eyes at Chance, laughing in gentle amusement. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend, Nicolas?" she asked.

Nick snapped out of his fantasy and back into reality with a start. "Yeah." He turned to the photographer. "Chance, this is the owner, Ms. Janette DuCharme." Looking back to her, his eyes automatically traveled down her delicate neck and flawless shoulders back to the laced bodice. He began to unlace it in his mind.

"Nicolas?" she whispered, still laughing.

"Janette...this is, um...um..."

"Chance. Chance Harper," the other man reminded him.

"Yeah...Chance Harper. He's um...here to...um...t-take..." Nick was having great difficulty telling Janette what the photographer was here to take.

Chance jogged him in the ribs with his elbow. "Take pictures, Nick. I'm here to take pictures."

"Yeah...take pictures." The detective briefly wondered if he could borrow that camera to take some pictures of his own later.

The other man, meanwhile, realized that Nick was far too out of it to finish this introduction. So, he took it upon himself to explain why he'd come to take pictures.

Janette was still laughing at Nick as she showed Chance around the club.

* * *

Chance spent his first few minutes alone in the Raven just wandering around the club, trying to get a feel for the atmosphere. There was something almost sinister about the place, probably because of the dark decor and murky red lighting. Truthfully, it was strikingly similar in feel to the other clubs he'd been in, both in the United States and Canada. Since he didn't ordinarily frequent nightclubs, he didn't know whether to attribute this resemblance to his luck or just night life in general.

Contributing to the atmosphere as much as the physical decor was the music pulsing through the room, something he wished he could capture with his camera:

> _Close your eyes  
>  And walk the endless mile to sleep  
> No good-byes  
> And no more promises to keep  
> Light the light  
> And follow closely as you lead  
> It ends tonight  
> And fills the emptiness and need  
> You must give in  
> You must give in  
> A game that you can't win, the Hunger_

He shook his head, as if to somehow dislodge the troubling lyrics from his mind. Creepy.

There was one part of the music that he could capture, though--its energy. Hefting his camera, Chance aimed it at the busy dance floor, waiting for the perfect shot. It came a moment later, in the form of a man and woman dancing together very closely. For a brief moment, the man's head drifted towards his partner's shoulder, his face wearing an expression of almost ravenous desire.

The photographer smiled as the moment was captured with a soft click. He hesitated for a moment, wondering whether or not to try for another photo of the heaving sea of bodies on the dance floor, but decided against it. He doubted he would get another shot as appropriate.

Turning his attention to the bar, he caught a glimpse of the proprietress leaning on the counter. She had a stem glass of what looked to be red wine clasped delicately in one black gloved hand, and a look of intent thoughtfulness on her face. Impulsively he snapped another shot and was glad he did when she stood a moment later. Handing her glass to an employee, she moved out from behind the bar and into the crowd of her patrons.

He didn't take the time to notice where she went, being already engrossed with his next photo op--this time a young woman holding another glass of red liquid to the lips of the man sitting on the barstool next to her. Some instinct told Chance to wait a moment on this one, and he was rewarded with another shot of the couple, this time with the man kissing the back of the woman's unoccupied hand. His eyes were fixed on hers and filled with meaning.

The next one he took--for no particular reason he could think of--was of Detective Knight. He looked distinctly uncomfortable until something--or someone--caught his eye. Then, as his demeanor lost some of its melancholy for a moment, Chance captured it on film.

* * *

Nick sat at the bar, watching as Chance went around looking for something of interest to capture on film. He couldn't get his mind off Janette or the scene earlier that night. _I can't believe I let my desire get the better of me like that...and in front of a virtual stranger, too._

Janette caught his attention as she made her rounds among the patrons. She smiled at him and he returned the smile broadly. His smile faded a little, however, when she turned to disappear down the hallway leading to her private office. It returned when he caught the subtle look she gave him and the signal inviting him to join her. Rising from his barstool, he followed her into the back room.

* * *

He gave the door a light shove to close it as he entered the room just seconds behind Janette. She stood with her back to him, filling two glasses with a rich-smelling human blood. Neither of them noticed that the door remained ajar.

"Are you here on business, Nicolas?" she asked, still with her back to him. When he responded that it was his day off, she replied, "A pleasure visit? How nice."

"It's always a pleasure to visit with you, Janette," was his response.

"Of course..." She turned, handing him a wine glass. "How do you like my new dress?" Janette smiled at him, knowing that he hadn't been able to keep his eyes off her because of that dress earlier in the evening.

Much to her delight, Nick's eyes wandered back over the dress. His breathing became heavy and erratic. "It's...um...it's..." He looked up at her, desire in his eyes.

" _Oui, Nicolas...c'est quoi_?" she purred, obviously enjoying his display of desire and frustration.

"Breathtaking!" he said at last, a triumphant look on his face. He'd finally managed to complete a thought for the first time all evening.

"Why, thank you. You don't think it's a little too much off the shoulders, do you?"

His eyes traveled again. "It's perfect...." he sighed dreamily. "Anything you choose to wear is perfection, Janette."

" _Merci, mon cher. A votre sante_ ," she said, lifting the glass to her lips and sipping slowly.

" _A la nuit_ ," Nick toasted as he followed suit. Moments later he set his half-empty glass down on the desk. "I've been thinking about you, Janette."

"You have? What have you been thinking?" she purred, lifting her right hand to run her fingers through his hair. She could guess what he'd been thinking. Pulling his head down to hers, she kissed him lightly, pressing her body to his for the briefest moment, then stepping away quickly to watch the torment on his face.

One kiss, however, was hardly enough for Nick. "Guess..." he hissed sharply as he pulled her back into his arms. The kiss he gave her was pure passion, full of the pent-up emotions he'd been carrying with him since Saturday.

Janette returned his kiss with fire. Soon they were exploring each other hungrily. Nick's hands roamed across her body, roughly feeling her curves. His lips tasted the creamy skin of her shoulders and neck. His mind reeled as she placed lusty kisses on his lips and across his face. When she nipped at his earlobe playfully, he felt his fangs descend.

They were so wrapped up in their endeavors that neither felt the presence in the open doorway.

Nick raised his head from Janette's neck, where he'd been sucking and and licking her skin hungrily. With a low snarl of animal lust, he sank his fangs into her throat, drinking greedily. Her hand pressed the back of his head gently, pressuring him to drink his fill. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were shining golden. Then she bit into his throat, and he let out a cry of passion.

Behind them, Chance Harper stood holding his camera slightly below his eyes. There was a shocked, uneasy look on his face.

* * *

(Meanwhile...)

Chance had canvassed the entire main room of the Raven and managed to capture several shots that ideally reflected its dark atmosphere. Still, he was hesitant to leave, even though it seemed that everything that could be photographed already had been. Both as a photographer and as an inadvertent magnet for trouble, Chance had learned to trust his instincts, and something was telling him there was more to be seen.

His suspicions were heightened when a brief perusal of the club made it apparent that neither the detective nor the proprietress were anywhere in sight.

 _Guess I'm stuck here for a while,_ he thought to himself, resigned. His eyes drifted towards the doors at the back of the club, not all of which led outside. The thought struck him that a glance behind the scenes might be just the thing to make this particular site stand out. And since Janette had pretty much given him carte blanche with regard to what he was allowed to photograph, he turned his footsteps resolutely towards the back hallway.

He never expected to find the two people he had been looking for earlier locked in a passionate embrace in the middle of an office, with the door wide open. For a moment, Chance just stared in stunned surprise at the spectacle in front of him. Then, the same instincts which had made him hesitate a moment ago kicked in and he raised his camera just in time to observe through the viewfinder as the detective raised his head with a soft, inhuman snarl, then plunged a pair of sharp fangs into the woman's throat.

Click.

Apparently they were completely engrossed in each other, because neither seemed to hear Chance's camera.

More shocked than he could ever remember being in his very strange life, the photographer hung in the doorway, his jaw slack and his camera held only millimeters below his eye. A moment later, when Nick raised his head from Janette's throat and she in turn bit lustily into his, Chance raised the camera again and took another photograph. He lingered in the doorway a moment more, not sure what to do next. Then, before either of them could discover his presence, he turned and fled back out into the sanctuary of the very public bar.


	3. Chapter 3

_I will never be surprised by anything again,_ Chance vowed silently to himself as he once again entered the bar that was the heart of the Raven. The thought made him chuckle. _And I thought I was already to that point--but who would expect something like this? Even with my luck?_ As if to reassure himself that the bizarre scene had indeed been captured on film, he let his hand come to rest on the camera which was now dangling by its strap from his shoulder.

 _Audrey's never going to believe this..._

"Care to dance, handsome?" a female voice with a slight brogue asked from behind him. Any other man would have probably spun, startled, and stood gaping at the beautiful woman behind him, but now that Chance was feeling himself again, he just turned calmly and frankly studied her face.

She was a petite little thing, slender and delicate. Still, something--probably the fiery red-gold hair--hinted that she was stronger than she looked. Spirited turquoise eyes met his with a silent challenge.

He smiled. "The name's Chance Harper, and I would love to dance, Miss..."

Smiling broadly, she took his arm. "Masters. Brenna Masters. But call me Brenna."

"In that case," he replied as she led him out onto the dance floor, "please call me Chance."

He had never considered himself a terribly good dancer, but at least doing something helped take his mind off the picture he had just snapped. It was better than just standing around thinking about it.

"So, tell me about yourself, Chance," Brenna suggested, her eyes sweeping over him in a way that made him rather uncomfortable. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all...

"Well, I'm a photographer from Seattle. I'm in town to do a photo essay about the night life in Canada, and how it compares to the U.S."

"Oh, really? Have you found it to your liking so far?"

Chance wasn't really sure how to answer. He didn't exactly want to tell her about the picture he'd taken. Brenna's eyes were still fixed intently on him, and he realized that he *really* didn't like the way she was looking at him. It was almost like she was...hungry.

At that moment, the music stopped, and Chance felt overwhelmingly relieved. This place was giving him the creeps, and he had decided he was ready to leave. And never come back, he added silently.

He started to step to the edge of the dance floor, but Brenna caught his hand. A little worried, he glanced back at her. Their eyes met and she spoke slowly, in a very different voice from the one she'd been using earlier.

 "Let's go outside...where we can have some privacy."

Her words echoed in his ears, having a curiously calming effect on his mind. For a moment, he started to follow her. Then the haze broke, and Chance shook his head vigorously, startled and a tiny bit frightened at how close she had come to changing his mind with those innocuous words.

"Actually, I should be leaving now. Detective Knight only brought me here as a favor. I don't want to take advantage of his generosity."

A well of conflicting emotions sprang onto the woman's face, from disgust and frustration to a sort of grudging respect at the mention of Nick's name.

"Very well, Chance Harper. Perhaps we will meet again, some day."

Without another word, she vanished into the crowd of patrons. Chance found himself heaving an incredible sigh of relief. Strange that such a slight figure should put him so much on edge...

Resolutely, he turned back towards the hallway he had just come out of. This time, though, he intended to announce his presence long before he got within view of Janette's office. He didn't want to interrupt another puzzling interlude between the proprietress and the detective.

* * *

(earlier, at LaCroix's apartment...)

LaCroix had been about to pour himself a drink when he sensed another vampire behind him. A younger presence, and yet power permeated it. He turned to find a familiar face staring back at him from the doorway. "Delia..." he whispered, his mind taking him back to almost 1800 years before...

>  _A very young (vampirically) LaCroix roamed the streets, looking for food. He had not yet gained the knowledge or wealth to acquire meals in a more refined manner, so street sweepings would have to do. As he rounded a corner, he came face to face with a girl of about twelve. She was raggedly dressed, with matted hair and large, brown doe eyes. Such a little slip of a thing, he thought as he grabbed her. Hardly more than a snack. No matter, he rationalized as he sank his fangs roughly into her neck._
> 
>  _As he drank from her, a strange feeling of familiarity washed over him. She reminded him of someone...of...Divia. Not the master he'd been forced to kill, but the daughter he'd loved and cherished above all else._ Daughter! Daughter! _his mind screamed, and he wrenched his fangs from her throat._
> 
>  _A week later, in his modest home, he watched as the tiny figure on the bed faded in and out of consciousness. He hadn't been able to kill her, and now she was lingering in the shadows of painful death. He wondered if he should attempt to bring her across. Should he do so, however, he risked creating another Divia. Neither he nor the world needed another Divia. But he couldn't let her die, could he?_
> 
>  _Coming to her bedside, he eased her into a sitting position. He'd brought her a warm broth, hoping it would give her strength._
> 
>  _"Drink, little one," he said in a kindly manner, holding the wooden bowl to her lips._
> 
>  _"I can't," she whispered softly._
> 
>  _He'd told her earlier that week what he was, and why she was ill. Why he'd done it, he'd never really understood. Guilt? Compassion, perhaps? Now he said sadly, "I can't save you if you won't drink, child...unless...?" He looked sympathetically at the wasted form on the bed. "There is only one way I can save you. Will you let me?"_
> 
>  _She nodded slowly._

"Hello, Father," replied the child-like figure before him. Delia invited herself into the room and sat down in an armchair. Nodding to the chair next to her, she indicated that he should sit.

"A drink, my dear?" he said, his voice coming back to him all of a sudden. After all, it was a great shock to see his Enforcer daughter after all these years. The last time had been right around Nick's first bout with that pesky Roman Catholic guilt of his.

"Yes, please," she studied him closely. "You don't seem pleased to see me, Father. Why is that?"

Handing her the wine glass, he replied, "You merely surprised me, my dear. I wasn't expecting company this evening."

"Not even Janette or Nicholas?" she asked. She could sense that he was monitoring them from afar even as they spoke. And as she monitored him, she could feel Nick and Janette as they reached the height of passion in each other's arms. "Do you always spy on them?" she asked as he sat in the chair beside her.

LaCroix looked uncomfortable. "I...I hadn't heard from Nicholas in a while and simply wished to see that he is well. It's a pure coincidence that they are together, my dear." He, in turn, began to study her. She'd grown in power since the last time they'd met. "Are *you* well, daughter, and happy?"

"Yes..." Delia thought briefly back to Nick and Janette. The two had been lovers for as long as she'd known them. Silently, she regretted looking so young. In this day and age, a twelve-year-old girl was not a woman, but a child. Now in her *original* day, twelve was practically marrying age. She would have been considered a woman. But no longer. Times had changed, leaving her a helpless member of society. She was no longer able to travel extensively by herself...needing an "adult" to accompany her on long trips. Besides her freedom to travel, she also missed the lost opportunities for love.

Sensing the path her thoughts were now going down, LaCroix frowned slightly. "No...you are not fully happy. I am truly sorry, my dear." His voice dripped with genuine concern.

She shook her head sadly. "If I am unhappy, it is my own choice. I could have lovers, you know. But I don't usually like the element that sleeps with twelve-year-old children--mortal or otherwise."

"You'll never know how much I regret--"

"It doesn't matter, Father. It is the life I've chosen."

They talked for several more hours, filling each other in as to what had happened in the years that stretched between their last encounter. LaCroix continued to wonder what had really brought Delia to Toronto. Surely she hadn't looked him up just to chat. Finally, he decided it was time to ask her what was on his mind.

"Why are you here, Delia? This can't be purely a social visit," he asked.

"You aren't enjoying our visit?" She pouted. "Father, I'm surprised. I thought for sure it would please you to know that I am well...however, as it happens, I am here on business."

"What sort of business?" LaCroix asked. He now wondered if she was here to check on Nicholas. The Enforcers did that from time to time...just to see if he had compromised the rest of the Community.

"It has nothing to do with Nicholas. I try to stay away from the problems he causes. My brother is..." she smiled ruefully. "...a bit controversial."

"What is it then?" LaCroix pushed further, even though he knew she didn't really have to tell him anything.

"If you must know," she started, sounding a bit annoyed. Then she paused, her expression softening and a devious gleam coming into her eyes. "Perhaps you can help me, Father. I've been tracking a mortal by the name of Chance Harper. He's a photographer from Seattle." She quickly told LaCroix about the strange things that seemed to happen wherever he went. "Mischief follows him like crows following death. At first I, like the others, believed he knew about us. Now I'm not so sure. It could be that his choice of clubs was purely accidental."

"And if it isn't, my dear?"

"Then he is a problem that needs to be terminated. Is that so hard to figure out?" she replied.

"How do you determine if he is a problem?"

She smiled coldly. "Janette owns a club called the Raven, does she not? I will see how long it takes him to get there, and what he will do once he does."


	4. Chapter 4

(Now back to where, and when, we left Nick, Janette and Chance...)

Nick and Janette sat on the couch in the corner of the office. His appearance hinted loudly at their earlier...activities. His hair was mussed and his shirt was untucked and unbuttoned down to the fourth button. Janette also seemed slightly tousled, but she at least maintained her usual amount of refinement. Both were, however, very flushed (for vampires). In the silence that now hung between them, Nick felt the guilt returning. Guilt over using her to ease his frustrations...guilt over cheating on Natalie. Finally, he spoke, his voice rough with emotion. He began to tell her about his "close call" with Nat on Saturday. How he'd wanted the kiss to go on forever. Yet at the same time, he'd wished she was somewhere else instead of in his arms.

Janette listened intently for several minutes. She knew full well why he had come to her instead of Natalie Lambert. Nat was mortal, and her involvement with Nick was hard on him. He couldn't seem to handle being close to her...because he was afraid he would kill her. Janette had heard all his excuses before, and quite frankly they ceased to illicit strong emotions from her. Instead, she was both amused and delighted that he kept coming back to her for comfort and to relieve his frustrations. Knowing that he came to her bursting with sexual and vampiric passions and left her with a calm and peaceful heart satisfied her immensely. It also renewed her hopes that someday he would be hers again for all time. Until then, she could suffer through this Natalie-phase.

"Nicolas," she whispered breathily, "please be silent...you're spoiling the mood." With that, she leaned over and kissed him, cutting off the words of protest which came to his lips. Her kiss wiped away all the guilt as Nick felt passion rising in him again. His arms tightened around her and his mouth sought hers with hunger.

At that moment, however, a sound reached their ears from the hallway behind them. It was Chance, calling out, "Nick? Detective Knight? Where are you? I'm ready to leave now."

The two vampires sprang apart. As Nick struggled to make himself look presentable (trying to tuck in his shirt and button it at the same time), he called out to the other man.

"We're in here, Chance! The office at the right." Moments later, Chance stepped into view, an awkward expression on his face.

"I'm ready to leave now," the photographer repeated.

Nick noted with some surprise that the other man looked extremely nervous. He wondered what had happened while he and Janette were...distracted. Had one of her patrons been a little too friendly with Chance?

Nick frowned, both upset with himself at choosing to bring him here in the first place, and annoyed by the photographer's interruption.

"I'm not quite ready to leave yet. Janette and I have some things we need to talk about." The words came out more curtly than he'd intended, but he softened a little when he saw the concerned look on Chance's face. The other man was genuinely frightened.

 _It would be better to get him out of here before he starts figuring things out...if he hasn't already,_ the vampire admitted to himself.

"Look, um, why don't you just take the Caddy for the night? I won't be using it until I go to work tomorrow anyway, and I'll send someone over to get it before then."

Chance frowned. "But then how will you get home?"

At this point, Janette turned to the photographer with a sly, satisfied smile. "Oh, don't worry about _Nicolas_...I'll take care of him."

Nick reached for his coat, dug in the pocket, and threw Chance the keys.

"Are you sure?" the photographer asked uncertainly.

"Positive. Just take good care of it."

Chance nodded and disappeared as quickly as he could from the doorway, leaving Nick and Janette to whatever plans they might have for the rest of the evening.

* * *

(the next day...)

Nick awoke at about ten AM with a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. His passion had gotten the better of him again, and this time the only person who could bail him out was Nat. Calling her, however, was not something he was looking forward to. He hated lying to her, but he knew he stood a chance of losing her if she ever found out where he was.

Sliding from the bed, he glanced back at Janette's sleeping form before reaching for the phone. Dialing Nat's number, he half-hoped she wouldn't pick up. She did.

"Ummm, Nat...it's me, Nick. Good morning," he said, trying to sound cheerful. At best, he sounded barely awake. Which was rather close to the truth, since he'd only been asleep (or resting, rather) since nine. Janette, on the other hand, had fallen asleep almost instantly. It was his guilt which had kept him awake longer and had woken him before he really fell asleep.

"I let Chance Harper borrow my car last night so he could check out the night life for his photo essay. I thought maybe you could go get it for me." This was partially true, Nick rationalized. _There's no need to tell her everything just yet._

"Sure," Nat replied, sounding slightly confused. After all, it was a strange request. "Should I drive it over to the loft when I pick it up?"

He turned pale. It was a good thing she couldn't see the look on his face, as he looked a little like death itself. "No!" he said too quickly.

"No? What's wrong, Nick? Don't you want me at the loft today?" Nat sounded suspicious. "Is there something there you don't want me to see?"

"No...I didn't mean to snap at you, Nat. I..." He thought for a moment, unable to come up with a good excuse. He yawned suddenly, an idea coming to him. "It's just that I've been up all morning thinking about what happened the other day at work...what happened between us, I mean. I haven't slept at all since yesterday. Why don't you keep it for the day and drive it in to work? I'll meet you after our shift is over and take you home. How does that sound?" His last question sounded hopeful. Nick was hoping she would both buy his excuse and accept the offer to go for a drive with him--even if it was just to her place.

"Why, Nick! I'd love to drive the Caddy for a day! Thank you so much...I'll see you tonight." As she hung up, the glee in her tone added weight to his guilty conscience.

Hanging up the phone, Nick stood there for a while, his head hung in shame. _How could I have lied to her?_ he asked himself.

Janette, having been awakened by the sound of his voice, slipped from the bed where she'd been studying his body language. Walking over him, she slipped her arms around his waist. " _Nicolas_ , darling, are you well? You look ill," she asked, feigning ignorance.

"I just got off the phone with Nat. She's going to pick up the Caddy for me." He sighed. "I lied to her, Janette. I told her she couldn't bring the Caddy to me at home because I was too tired...not because I wasn't even at home." His voiced wrenched with torment.

Nick pulled out of her arms and walked over to sit on the bed. *Her* bed...the bed they'd shared since the Raven closed in the wee hours of the morning. He looked depressed, all slumped over, holding his head in his hands dejectedly.

Janette joined him on the bed, stretching out like the lioness she was. Slipping her arms around him once more, she drew him closer to the center of the bed...and closer to her. "If talking to Natalie depresses you so, Nicolas...simply don't do it anymore," she said sweetly.

"It isn't talking to her that depresses me. It's lying to her," Nick protested, even though he knew what she meant.

"But Nicolas...try to see it this way...your lie has saved Natalie some heartbreak. It was a justified lie," she said, trying to ease his guilt.

Nick hesitated for a moment, then he smiled slightly. "You're right, Janette. It was justified. I feel better now." With that, he kissed her gently before snuggling into bed beside her. He was asleep within minutes, a peaceful smile on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

(Chance's hotel room...)

Chance spent most of the night turning the small hotel bathroom into a darkroom in order to prove to himself that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him when he took those pictures of Nick and Janette. He spent most of the next morning taking the equipment down, once he had the grim proof in his hands.

 _And I thought my life was weird,_ he reflected thoughtfully, laying the stack of pictures carefully on the dresser and turning back to the bathroom.

He was in the middle of disconnecting the red light from the bathroom socket when the phone rang. Chance chuckled. His life seemed to give new meaning to the saying, "Timing is everything."

The phone rang again. With a sigh, he gently eased the light down onto the counter and went to answer it. "Hello?"

"Is this Chance Harper's room?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"I'm Natalie Lambert, a friend of Nick's..."

"The ME? The one he was talking to the other night at the precinct?"

Nat laughed curtly. "To quote you, Mr. Harper, 'Yeah, that's me.'" Her voice sounded sad. "Nick sent me to pick up the Caddy."

 _The caddy? Oh, the car._

"Yeah, of course. Actually..." He glanced back towards the bathroom. "Could you come up here for a moment? I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"Sure, I'll be right up. Suite 713, right?"

"That's right."

When Natalie knocked on Chance's door a few moments later, he was draining the bathtub. Leaving the water still swirling down the drain, he went to answer it.

"Dr. Lambert?" They shook hands and Chance gestured for her to enter the room. "I'll only be a minute. I just have to finish concealing the fact that I used the bathroom for a darkroom." He flashed her a lopsided grin and she laughed. "If you're in a hurry or anything, I can just give you the keys..."

Nat shook her head. "It's all right. I can wait. Actually, I have to confess to being rather curious about you."

"Oh?"

"Nick told me what happened the other night. I'm dying to know how you can be so calm about the whole thing."

Chance chortled under his breath as he carefully packed his developing equipment back into its bag. "You get used to it after a while," he replied lightly.

"What do you mean?"

"I just have this really strange luck, that's all. 'Expect the unexpected' is kind of my motto."

 _Expect the unexpected...like falling in love with a man I met when he woke up in my morgue..._

"That's why I became a photographer," Chance continued. "Because I have this knack for being in the right place at the right time. Or the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on how you look at it."

Nat smiled. "I guess a person can get used to anything."

 _She sounds like she's talking from experience,_ Chance thought. He grinned at her. "Have you got it too?"

She laughed shortly. "I've got something, that's for sure." _An infuriating vampire named Nick who hasn't learned a thing in eight hundred years..._ Her eyes drifted to the stack of photos on the dresser. "Are these your pictures?"

He nodded. "I shot that roll last night."

"May I look at them?"

"Be my guest."

Natalie picked up the sheaf of photographs and began to leaf through them. "These are really good," she remarked, impressed.

"Thanks."

Concerned by the ME's sudden silence, Chance looked up from what he was doing. He was startled to see Nat staring fixedly at one of the photos, her face devoid of color.

"Dr. Lambert, are you all right?"

"You were at the Raven," she stated flatly, ignoring his question.

"Yeah, Nick took me there last night for my shoot. Why?" Before she could answer, a look of horrified realization came over his face. _Uh, oh._

"Damn him," Nat swore softly, something she didn't do very often. Her face betrayed very little of the intense anger she was feeling, though her lips were drawn into a thin, grim line. "No wonder he was too tired for me to bring the Caddy over to the loft," she continued bitterly, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "Janette must have worn him out!"

Angrily she threw the photos onto the floor, where they spread out in a fan-like pattern, getting out of order. Chance bent to pick them up, mentally noting that he would have to reorganize them later. He wisely decided not to ask for details, but there was one thing he had to know...

"Dr. Lambert--" he began.

"Natalie," she corrected him sharply.

"Natalie...I know this isn't the best time to ask this, but what exactly are they doing in that one?"

Nat hesitated before answering, not sure whether or not to reveal Nick's secret to the other man. She tried to push away the intense feelings of betrayal that were crowding her heart and focus on the fact that Nick trusted her. _But why shouldn't you tell? a bitter voice at the back of her mind taunted. How would that be any worse than what he does to you on an almost daily basis?_

In the end, logic won out. After all, Chance had the photograph and he would probably figure it out for himself eventually, she reasoned. And probably get himself in a lot more trouble with the Enforcers that way, no doubt.

"They're sharing blood," she told him flatly. "It's the vampire equivalent of necking, literally."

Chance's eyes widened a little at the mention of vampires, but not nearly as much as Nat had expected. He really does have a remarkable ability to take things in stride, she marveled.

"So, Detective Knight and this woman, Janette, are vampires?"

She nodded, the bile rising in her throat at the mention of Janette's name.

Chance whistled thoughtfully. "And I thought I'd seen everything," he remarked with a grin, hoping to lighten the mood.

Apparently it worked because Nat returned the smile. "Have you ever seen an elephant fly?" she quipped.

"No, that one's still on my 'to do' list."

The coroner laughed. It was so nice to be around a man with a sense of humor for a change. "Well, in the meantime, shall we go get the Caddy?"

Chance nodded and retrieved the keys from the dresser drawer he'd tossed them in last night. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

(in the parking garage...)

Nat spotted the car first. "There it is." The caddy, which Chance could now see in the daylight was more of a mint-green than the blue he had originally thought, was parked at the other end of the garage. It stood out nicely against the white and red vehicles surrounding it.

Chance pulled the keys out of his pocket and they began walking towards it.

Suddenly, a face appeared behind the windshield and the engine roared to life. An unfamiliar young man was driving the Caddy out of its parking place.

"Hey! That's not my car!" Chance yelled, running in the direction of the vehicle. Seeing him, the driver gunned the engine and sped, tires screeching, out of the garage and onto the street. The photographer pursued him on foot for as long as he could, then finally had to turn breathlessly back to where Nat had been watching the scene in shocked dismay.

"Nick is going to *kill* me!" she moaned, adding silently, quite possibly literally!

"I'm sorry, Natalie." Chance looked incredibly contrite. "With my luck, I should know better than to borrow someone else's car."

Nat shook her head, her eyes flashing. "It's not your fault..." The frustration of losing the car, compiled with the betrayal of Nick's activities, had finally brought her to the breaking point, and she exploded. "It's Nick's own damn fault this happened! If he hadn't had to stay with his precious Janette, the Caddy would never have been out of his sight! And it's not my fault he cares more about that stupid car than about me!"

 "You're in love with him, aren't you?" Chance asked softly.

The kindness in his voice made her burst into tears. Why couldn't Nick seem to see that, or how much what he did had hurt her?

The photographer embraced her gently, his arms offering support but asking nothing in return. They stood there like that in the middle of the parking garage until Nat had exhausted her store of tears. Then, Chance gently brushed a strand of damp hair off the coroner's face.

"Do you want to go back inside?"

Nat nodded. "We'll have to call the precinct, or go down there to report the car stolen."

"I think there's probably a pay phone in the lobby."

She nodded again, and they turned back towards the elevator up to the hotel, neither one of them realizing that they had taken each other's hands.

* * *

(the precinct...)

When Nick arrived at the precinct that night, he found Nat waiting for him by his desk. Chance was at Schanke's desk, talking to him as the detective filled out his report.

Nick went up to Nat, a smile on his face. "Hi, Nat. How was your day?" he asked. Her answer was a cold, stern look.

Schanke and Chance looked up at the sound of his voice, but Nat intercepted him before he could reach the other desk. "Come with me, Nick," she said as she grabbed his arm and pulled him aside.

Sensing tension all around him, Nick felt himself tense with nervousness. "What's wrong, Nat? What's going on?" he asked.

"I'm not sure how to break this to you, Nick, but the Caddy's been stolen." Nat spoke without looking at him directly.

"What? How?" Nick asked. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Nat briefly told him how the Caddy had been driven off before her eyes. When she was finished, he whistled slightly. "What is it with this guy and cars?" Nick tried to joke, still sensing tension from her. "He has more bad luck with them than anyone I've ever met!"

She didn't return his smile, or his joking manner. Instead, she faced him with angry eyes. "Your car has been stolen, and you just stand there and joke about it!?" she snapped. "You know, Nick, I really think you ought to get your priorities straight. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get to the morgue." She pushed passed him, exiting the precinct in a rush. Nick just stood there, blinking in confusion.


	6. Chapter 6

(Amanda Cohen's office...)

Schanke dropped the report of the Caddy's theft lightly onto the captain's desk, shaking his head with an amused smile on his face. "This is incredible. If I had any doubts about that stuff Chance told us about his luck being true, I'm convinced now. The guy is like a walking incarnation of Murphy's Law."

Cohen perused the report, frowning. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"What do you mean?"

"I took the liberty of doing a background check on Mr. Harper, and what I found was rather interesting..." She hit a few keys on her computer. "Here, look at this."

Schanke came around the desk and peered over her shoulder at the monitor.

 "Chance Harper has a list a mile long of arrests--but no convictions--with the Seattle police department," she explained the information on the screen. "Grand theft, trespassing, kidnapping, arson, even Murder One. And in every instance, the charges were dropped due to lack of evidence. I'd say Mr. Harper must have some friends in pretty high places."

"So, you think he's a crook?"

"It's certainly possible, and I find it highly suspicious that the one time Knight loans his car to someone, it gets stolen."

"But couldn't Chance's luck account for that record too? I mean, if the guy has extraordinarily bad luck, he might get arrested a lot for things he didn't do..."

"I suppose, but I'm rather disinclined to believe in luck, especially in this case. It's just too convenient an explanation."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Just keep an eye on him, look for anything he might say or do that would be suspicious."

Schanke nodded. "I can do that. I still think the guy's just what he says, but I'll keep my eyes peeled, just in case."

"Thanks. Oh, and Schanke?"

"Yeah, Cap?"

"Don't mention this to Knight. I have a feeling he's got enough on his mind right now."

* * *

(Chance's hotel suite...)

A tiny, black-clad figure stole into the room, scanning it with her excellent night vision. On a coffee table, she noticed a stack of photographs. Picking them up, she sifted through them, admiring his artistic style.

Coming to the picture of Janette at the bar, her eyes widened. Now she realized that the photographs were of the Raven. _How did he find it already?_ she thought, fuming. The next picture was of Nick. She could still detect a hint of the melancholy his smile had replaced. It wasn't hard--Knight's depression was well known to most vampires who knew of him.

The next photographs in Chance's collection caused her to gasp loudly. Holding them so that they were side by side, she studied the two pictures. One showed Nick biting deeply into Janette's graceful neck. The other showed her returning the favor.

Delia raged. Not only had Harper beaten her to the Raven, he'd also gotten photos of two vampires sharing blood. She threw the rest of the pictures to the floor, taking the two of Nick and Janette. At the window, she paused, realizing the danger of leaving the suite a mess. Picking up the photos and putting them back on the coffee table, she put the room back in order. Then she left as stealthily as she had come.

* * *

(later that evening...)

Since the Caddy was nowhere to be found and Nat had never returned to pick up Nick or Chance, Schanke offered to give them both a ride home. Nick sat brooding in the front seat. He was only slightly miffed about losing the Caddy; what really bothered him was Nat's cold attitude that night.

"Earth to Nick. Where are you, buddy?" Schanke cut into his partner's moping.

"Huh?" Nick turned back from the window he'd been staring out of.

"Where do you want me to drop you off?" Schanke asked, laughing.

The other detective glanced at Chance. "Chance's hotel. I need to talk to him about...ah...my car."

"How will you get home?"

"I'll fly, Schank...What do you think?" he quipped. Of course he really meant it, but there was no reason to let his partner know that. "Don't worry. I'll find a way."

Schanke just shook his head. He knew Nick well enough not to force the issue. With a sigh, he went back to concentrating on the road. Soon, they were pulling up in front of the hotel. Nick and Chance got out, both thanking him for the ride.

"Can you stop by the loft tomorrow night?" his partner asked. "I'll need a ride into work." He paused. "I realize it's out of your way, but you're the only one I can count on right now."

Schanke smiled broadly. "Sure thing, pal! I know things are stressed between you and Nat right now. I won't even ask why! It's the least I can do after you let me stay at your place when Myra and I had that big fight."

"Thanks, Schanke." Nick started to turn away. Looking back, he said, "Say 'hi' to Myra and Jenny for me."

Schanke drove away, and Chance followed the other detective into the hotel.

* * *

(Chance's room...)

"So, you wanted to talk to me about your car?" Chance asked as he opened the door.

"Actually, Chance...I've already read the report, and I believe you. What I really wanted to talk about was Natalie."

"What about Nat?" the photographer asked.

"Things have been a bit...strained...between us lately; I suppose you could have told that from the other night at the precinct. I kind of wondered if you knew why she was so angry with me tonight." Nick looked awkward.

Chance's eyes went wide. Considering everything he and Natalie had spoken about that day, he was a little scared to tell the vampire cop why she was angry. Besides, Nick *should* already have a good idea what was bothering her.

When the other man didn't answer, Nick asked, "Chance? Did I say something wrong?"

The photographer continued to look uneasy. However, he did decide to break the news to the detective, albeit gently. Walking over to the coffee table, he picked up the stack of photographs and handed them to Nick. "I think these can explain it better than I can."

The vampire flipped through the pictures, admiring Chance's skill and good taste. "Why would these upset her?" he asked, looking up at the other man with a confused expression on his face. "I see nothing wrong with them."

"You don't?" Chance exclaimed, surprised. "Let me see them." He grabbed the photos. "They're gone!" he exclaimed after a brief perusal. "I can't believe it--someone stole them!" _This is just too much, even for me!_

"What's gone? Who stole what?" Nick asked, still looking confused.

"The pictures of you and Janette sharing blood!" Chance blurted out. Instantly, he regretted it.

The vampire started, then glared at him with glowing eyes. "WHAT?!" he roared. Then, seeing that he'd scared the photographer, Nick fought to regain control. "I'm sorry, Chance--you took me by surprise with that one. How the hell did you know that's what we were doing?"

Glad that Nick had de-vamped, but still shaking a little, Chance explained how he had stumbled upon him and Janette in the office. He then explained how Nat had stumbled upon the two now-missing photos.

"I guess it upset her a lot, huh?" the detective asked softly. He'd never anticipated anything like this.

"Yeah, it did." Chance paused. The question that had been nagging at him ever since the Raven was bothering him even more now. "I don't..." He stopped, shaking his head.

"What?"

"I just don't understand this thing between you and these two women. The impression I got at the precinct the other night was that you and Nat were seeing each other...or were, at least, close. Then I saw you with Ms. DuCharme...I just don't understand." The photographer blushed when he realized he was rambling.

Nick didn't know what to say. Chance wasn't the only one who didn't understand his relationship with the two women, so he decided to ignore the other man's comments about the touchy situation.

"Nat told you about me?" he asked. The photographer nodded. Nick's voice dropped low, gaining the familiar cadence it took on when he hypnotized someone. Chance's heartbeat thumped loudly in his ears. "Chance..." he spoke slowly, "you must forget all about vampires...and the pictures you took. There are no vampires..."

Chance blinked. _What is it with these people?_ "Whatever it is you're trying to do, it won't work. Someone at the Raven already tried it."

Nick looked flabbergasted. Now he not only didn't know what to say, he also didn't know what to do.


	7. Chapter 7

(LaCroix's, later that night...)

Nick knocked on the door nervously. "Come in, Nicholas..." he heard LaCroix call from within. _He sensed me, what else is new?_ the younger vampire thought ruefully as he opened the door. He found his master in the next room, seated in an armchair.

"Why must you be so mundane, Nicholas? You know you are welcome to come and go as you please. I don't mind." LaCroix said with a small, almost benevolent smile.

Nick ignored the comment. "I need your help. I'm in trouble," he said in a rush.

"You most certainly are, Nicholas," a voice said from behind him.

He whirled around to see a tiny girl with large doe-eyes staring intently at him. He knew her, and he knew her presence here could only mean trouble. "Delia..." he choked out.

She smiled coldly. "I'm pleased you remembered me. It saves us the trouble of introductions. And, of course, you are correct. You are in very deep trouble."

"But not trouble that involves Enforcers," Nick said quickly. "I merely mean that I fear I may have inadvertently lost the help I had in gaining my cure. That's all, honest!" His expression gave him away. Nick just didn't carry himself like someone who was telling the truth.

"Doctor Lambert, I believe her name is?" Delia responded coldly.

"How did you know about her?" Nick looked more worried now.

"I have my ways," she said. "And I do believe your real problem has to do with this--or shall I say, these?" She handed him an envelope.

Inside were two photographs. He pulled them out, staring at them for what seemed like forever, smiled and said, "Chance does do a good job, doesn't he?" He handed them back to her.

Even LaCroix, who had remained quiet until now, looked shocked. "And this doesn't bother you in the least, Nicholas?"

Nick smiled sheepishly. "I was worried, to tell you the truth, but I had feared that a mortal had stolen them. It's a great relief to know that it was one of us, especially an Enforcer."

"Why is that?" Delia asked.

"Because... if it had been a mortal, we would have been compromised, but because it was you, Delia... you wouldn't risk anyone finding out about our existence. Or would you?" he asked.

"No, I would not. However, this mortal, Chance Harper, knows about us, and this remains a problem," she replied.

"You will carry out your plan, then, my dear?" LaCroix asked, interrupting them.

Nick glanced from one to the other, looking thoroughly confused. "What plan?"

Delia began to explain the mission which brought her to Toronto, and by the time she had finished, Nick had turned a sickly shade. He liked Chance, and it bothered him the Enforcers wished him dead.

"You can't," Nick protested. "Delia, he's innocent. He really didn't know about vampires until that night at the Raven. And he told me that he hadn't planned on submitting those pictures of me and Janette. That's why he developed that roll of film himself. I believe that."

"Then how do you explain that every bar and club he's been in since Seattle has been one of ours? I've been following him, Nicholas. I know where he's been and what he's been up to."

"Then you must know about his luck," Nick urged, remembering what Chance had told him about the oddities in his life.

"I count nothing as pure luck, Nicholas. All things happen by design, whether it be contrived by man... or by..." she said, smiling, "...whatever else might or might not be out there."

"But you've seen the things that happen to him, right?" Nick asked more urgently. "Delia, you have to have seen. How can anyone with that kind of track record be anything except innocent? You can't just kill an innocent man!"

Delia sighed in resignation. "Very well... I have seen this 'luck' you refer to, which is why I was willing to believe he might not be a problem. After seeing these photographs, however, I can no longer afford to let him live. Unless... Can you erase his knowledge of us, Nicholas?"

Nick hung his head, staring forlornly at his feet. She had to ask, didn't she? "No. He is a resistor. I tried, Delia. Believe me. I tried."

Nick looked miserable as Delia suddenly burst into laughter. She turned to LaCroix. "He tried! He tried! I wonder, Father... Is it not possible that all those years of drinking cow has dulled his capabilities? Perhaps he simply cannot hypnotize correctly anymore."

LaCroix merely shook his head in amusement. It was a possibility he had not thought of before. "I suppose it is possible, my dear, although I could not say for certain."

Nick looked hurt. "But it wasn't just me who tried. He told me there was this girl at the Raven who tried it before I did. It didn't work for her, either."

Delia frowned, the laughter melting away from her lips. "Then he truly is a problem for our Community and must be dealt with... immediately."

"Delia, please," Nick begged. "I promise you Chance will not be a problem. He's already promised me he won't tell a soul about us. Besides, he doesn't know all that much, really. Come on. Give Chance a chance."

Delia's laughter returned.


	8. Chapter 8

(Nick's loft...)

Nick lay awake in bed, thinking about what Chance had told him. Wave after wave of guilt washed over him for lying to Natalie about where he had been.

He loved Nat--he believed that with all his heart--so why was so much of his relationship with her based on fear? Fear either of hurting her with his lack of control, or of telling her the truth about how he filled the need he wouldn't let her fill. No matter how much he tried to protect her, something always happened to hurt her again. Restlessly he turned over, but the satin sheets, so like Janette's, whispered memories to him of their night together, only increasing the debt of guilt.

It was daylight out. He should have been taking advantage of the time to sleep, but instead he was tossing about on a tempest of self-blame and fear.

 _What if she leaves me?_ Nick found himself wondering, his already slow heart going cold at the thought. _What if she decides to give up on curing me. What if she decides she doesn't want me around any longer...and leaves Toronto? What would I do without her?_

Desperate to prevent those fears from coming true, he rolled out of bed and padded barefoot across the floor of his bedroom, swooping down into the living room the moment he had opened the door.

As he reached for the phone, he hesitated. _What do I say to her?_

 _Apologize, of course, you stupid fool!_ a voice at the back of his mind chided him.

Still numb, he picked up the receiver and automatically dialed her number. With the tense anticipation of a boy asking a girl on a first date, he waited for the phone to stop ringing.

"Hello?" Nat's voice answered.

An incredible sense of relief washed over Nick, and for a moment he smiled, but quickly became contrite again. "Nat? It's me...Nick."

"Oh. What do you want?" Her voice was flat, emotionless, but he could still sense the anger behind her words.

"I...I wanted to apologize, Nat. Chance told me what happened..." There was an uncomfortable silence. "I'm so sorry. Is there any way I can make it up to you? I mean, would you like to come over and watch a video with me tonight or something?" He grimaced at himself, realizing how weak it sounded, but unable to bring himself to offer more.

On the other end of the line, Nat stared at the receiver in disbelief. _A video? He wants to make up for making out with Janette by inviting me over to watch a *video*??_

"Nat, I really am sorry," Nick repeated, his voice almost giving away his desperation.

"Really?" she spat back at him. "Well, tell me, Nick, are you sorry about what you did, or just that you got caught?"

Stunned by the question, and guiltily unsure of how to answer, he was silent.

"That's what I thought," Nat replied in grim resignation, the truth of her words stinging like a physical slap across the face. "No, Nick, I'm afraid I won't be able to come over and watch *videos* with you tomorrow night," she continued in an icy tone, her voice laced heavily with sarcasm. "I'm spending the day with someone, so I'm afraid I'll be *too tired*."

With that final jibe, she slammed the phone down, leaving Nick to stare miserably at the receiver in his hand, the dial tone echoing in his sharp ears like a funeral knell.

* * *

(Nat's apartment...)

Nat sat staring at the phone, her eyes filled with tears. _Why?_ she demanded silently of the empty air around her. _Why can't he just once treat me as though he valued me more than for his precious cure?!?_

Her anger resurfacing, the coroner now directed some of it towards herself for the way she had responded to him. _Why the hell did I tell him I was going out with someone?_ she fumed. _Now I know he's going to want to know what happened at work tomorrow night, and I have NO intention of giving him the satisfaction of admitting I just made it up! But where am I going to find a date for the day on such short notice?_

Furious, she swept her hand across the table, deliberately knocking everything on it to the floor. Her eyes came to rest on a scrap of paper that had landed on top of the pile. On it was scribbled the phone number for Chance Harper's hotel room.

With a surprised smile, she picked it up. _Chance--of course! He said he was going to be here for a little while longer, since he hadn't expected to finish his photo shoot as quickly as he did. I bet he'd be available..._

Nat smiled an almost evil grin at the poetic justice of the choice and reached again for the phone, dialing the number on the paper.

"Chance? This is Natalie Lambert. I was just wondering...how would you like to go for a picnic?"

* * *

As soon as she saw Chance standing on the curb in front of the hotel, Nat hit the horn lightly to get his attention and waved in his direction as soon as he turned his head. With a smile of recognition, the photographer waved back, signaling that he would meet her at the corner. She nodded and flicked on her turn signal to merge into the left-hand lane.

Nat took a moment to reach beside her with one hand and lift the picnic basket into the back seat. A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she remembered the fun she'd had filling the basket. There was so much that she missed out on with Nick, and she had almost forgotten how much fun picnicking could be. Well, she planned to make every effort to remind herself of all those things today. She had promised herself that she wouldn't think about Nick at all, at least not until the sun went down and she had to deal with him at work.

Pulling her car up to the curb, the coroner reached over to unlock the passenger door for Chance, who opened it and climbed in.

"I'm glad you called," he told her with a grin as he closed the door and fastened his seat belt. "I was afraid I wasn't going to have anything to do today, and if I'd stayed in the hotel, it probably would have burned down or something."

Nat laughed. "You know, if I hadn't seen what I have, I'd think you were crazy, but at this point, I am sorely tempted to believe you *do* have weird luck."

"I'm almost wondering if you have it too," Chance admitted, still smiling. "I mean, even *I'd* never met a vampire until the other day!"

Nat wrinkled her nose, ruefully. "Well, if you think about it, that wasn't such a strange thing to happen. I mean, I am a pathologist, so meeting Nick wasn't purely happenstance. And anything weird that's happened to me since then has been largely because of him..." Her voice trailed off into a frown. "Why don't we talk about something else?"

Chance looked sheepish, realizing the can of live bait he'd just re-opened. "Sounds good to me. Where are we going, anyway?"

Nat smiled secretively. "It's a surprise. Just a little spot I found a few years ago, when I moved to Toronto, and haven't been back to very often. I'll tell you this much, though--it's beautiful."

"If you say so, it must be. I should warn you, though: nothing has happened to me yet today."

She eyed him curiously. "Is that supposed to mean something?" she teased.

He nodded, still wearing that enchanting grin, so full of mischief. "Expect the unexpected," he intoned in a somber but teasing voice.

Nat smiled in return. "Sounds like fun," she murmured.

* * *

"Here it is!" Natalie exclaimed as she straightened up again after passing through the low gap in the trees. Chance followed her, his eyes widening in appreciation as he took in the small clearing, which was secluded enough to be private but not completely cut off from the rest of the park. The sun seemed to reflect off the bright green of the new grass, despite the dwarfing shadows of the surrounding trees. A little ways away, on the edge of the clearing, a tiny wooden gazebo could be seen, facing away from them towards the center of the park.

Nat chose a spot both in the shade and the sun to spread the blanket out, a finely stitched plaid patchwork that her grandmother had given her for her sixteenth birthday. Standing, she fluffed it out a little in the breeze before letting it float down gently to rest on the ground. Once she had seated herself on the blanket, Chance handed her the basket.

"You were right--this site is beautiful. How did you find it?"

Nat blushed. "When I first starting at the coroner's office, the precinct had their picnic in this park. I was new and I guess a little shy, because I didn't really feel comfortable joining in the activities. So, I went exploring."

Her eyes scanned the tree line circling their little hideaway. "You know, I hadn't realized before just how long it has been since I was here last," she mused. "Almost seven years..."

Shaking herself out of the memories that threatened to encroach, Nat turned her attention to the picnic basket. "Well, Chance, I hope you're hungry."

"Famished. What've you got?"

She opened the basket to produce a virtual smorgasbord of sandwiches, two apples, two bananas, two oranges, a bag of potato chips, a foil-covered plate of home-baked sugar and oatmeal-raisin cookies, and at the very bottom--produced from the basket with a triumphant flourish--two cold bottles of IBC Root Beer!

She handed one of the bottles to Chance and, once she had uncapped her own, held it towards him in a toasting posture. "To new friends."

"To new friends," he repeated, clinking his root beer with hers and taking a long swig.

They began to eat, talking animatedly between mouthfuls about anything and everything *not* related to vampires, or especially, Nick. Chance regaled Nat with stories about his luck, and she retaliated with gleefully ghoulish autopsy accounts, told in such a manner that they were still funny, despite the morbid subject matter.


	9. Chapter 9

About halfway through his second sandwich, Chance happened to glance up. "Uh oh..."

"What's the matter?" Nat asked, following his eyes. "Oh."

The sky, which only a short while ago had been clear, was covered with grim, gray clouds that seemed almost eager to begin pouring down angry rain. "Think we should make a run for it?" the photographer asked. If there was one thing he knew about from living in Seattle, it was unpredictable weather, especially when it came to rain.

She nodded, already starting to repack the food into the basket.

At that moment, a cloudburst broke right over their heads. Nat let out a little shriek and scrambled to finish loading the cookies into the basket before they got drenched. The photographer, who had been picking up the blanket, tossed one end of it over her and pulled the other end over his head. When the coroner had taken cover (minimal though it was) under the quilt, as well, they began to look around for a more permanent shelter.

Chance spotted the gazebo they had seen earlier, way at the edge of the clearing. He waved in its direction. "We could ride it out there," he called to his companion over the sound of the rain.

Moving closer so that the blanket would provide more coverage for both of them, Nat nodded. "We'll have to make a run for it."

"Sounds good to me," he murmured, looking around them at the downpour.

They began to run towards the gazebo, laughing a little to each other at how silly they must look, bundling at full speed across the wet grass under a now thoroughly soaked quilt. Two thirds of the way there, Nat's feet slipped. There was a moment of panic, but Chance, reacting quickly, caught her elbow and kept her from tumbling to the ground and covering herself with mud and grass stains. He continued to hold on to her until they had reached the steps of the gazebo. Once there, the coroner slipped out from under the blanket and seated herself, shivering, on one of the benches inside.

"Thanks," she managed to stammer through chattering teeth.

Chance just nodded, shrugging out of his trench coat and offering it to her.

"Oh, no, you don't have to--" Nat started to protest.

"I insist. You're soaked--you need to keep warm."

"But what about you?"

"I'm fairly dry." He grinned, holding the coat out to her again. "This thing makes a great raincoat." The coroner smiled weakly.

"I mean it. Take it!"

With a resigned sigh, Nat accepted the worn brown coat and wrapped it around herself. "It's warmer than it looks," she commented, surprised.

Chance just nodded. "Trust me, it's a real blessing, living in Seattle."

His companion was quiet, staring thoughtfully out at the rain and the people running for their cars in the parking lot.

"You want to try to make it to your car?" he asked, studying her warily.

She shook her head. "No, let's just wait it out here. It shouldn't last too long..." Once again, her voice faded out wistfully.

They sat there together in silence for a few moments, watching the green trees swaying with the impact of the raindrops on their leaves. Little puddles and mud holes gradually began to form along paths, where the passage of many feet had worn low places in them.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Chance finally asked.

Nat sighed. "I was just thinking that it would have to rain on the first day in almost five years I actually get to do something in the daytime. Something fun, no less." Her voice was bitter, and he guessed that it probably wasn't just the rain.

The coroner let out a short laugh. "I'm insane," she stated bluntly. "I am honestly insane! I've wasted half of the time I've lived in Toronto on Nick, almost never dating or spending time with anyone else because he gets so damned jealous, and what does he do? Every time he gets a little hungry for something his cow blood can't provide, he goes and...sleeps with Janette!"

For this entire speech, Nat's voice had been gradually rising in volume and pitch, becoming more and more frustrated and angry. She shuddered a little at the thought of what she'd almost said Nick had done to Janette.

"Why did I do it?" she asked incredulously. "How could I be so stupid as to think he actually cared about me, maybe even loved me?" Just as it had the day before in the parking garage, Natalie's pain boiled over into a flood of hot tears almost as furious as the weeping of the sky outside their meager shelter.

Chance put his arm around her and held her while she shook with sobs, her tears soaking his shirt that the rain had spared. For what seemed like hours, they sat like that: grief and betrayal flowing out of Nat, met by waves of silent comfort from the photographer, who did nothing but hold her and quietly stroke her hair.

Finally, when her tears had mostly subsided into damp gasps, he spoke. "You're not stupid, Nat."

"Oh, really?" she retorted, pulling and turning away from him. Bitterness surged up in her voice again. "Then how do you explain--"

"Natalie, listen to me," Chance interrupted, taking her chin in his hand and drawing her back to face him. "You..."

Whatever he had been meaning to say died on his lips the instant their eyes met.

"Chance..." Nat began, her voice trailing off into a whisper.

Without either of them knowing how or why it happened, they kissed. There was something so natural about the way their lips came together, as if this had been the goal of their whole afternoon together, instead of just an accident.

When they pulled back a few moments later, there was an uneasy silence between them. Both were puzzled by the rush of emotions the kiss had evoked and couldn't help but wonder if it had been the circumstances of the moment or a genuine attraction that had prompted it.

"It's stopped raining," Nat observed lamely, glancing behind Chance to the rapidly clearing sky. "I guess we should go." He nodded, standing and gathering the still-damp quilt into his arms. "Do you want me to drop you off back at your hotel?" she asked, her voice hesitant.

Reading between the lines, the photographer shook his head. "No. I think I'm going to take a walk, if that's okay."

"Fine." She was both relieved and disappointed. "Well then, I guess I'll be seeing you...whenever." She took the quilt from him, heaped it on top of the basket, turned and headed in the direction of her car.

Chance watched her go, an uneasiness churning around in his stomach. Then, as she set the basket down on the passenger seat of the car and turned to walk around to the driver's side, he made a decision.

"Nat! Wait!"

Startled by the sound of his voice, she turned, and in what seemed like only seconds, he was beside her. Taking her into his arms, he bent down and kissed her again.

When their lips parted, Nat looked up at him with a calm smile, all uncertainty banished. "You sure you don't want a ride?"

"Yeah, I think I'll go exploring for a while."

"All right. Just be careful--especially if you're still out after dark."

"I will. Promise."

Chance squeezed her hand and stepped away from the car, watching thoughtfully as she pulled out of the parking lot and drove away. Then he turned and began walking along the sidewalk that rimmed the park. A light breeze swept momentarily around him and he shivered. _Now what did I do with my coat?_ he wondered, turning back to glance in the direction of the gazebo. The memory struck him like a club and he whirled again in the direction Nat had gone.

 _Oh, no._

A bemused smile spread over his face and he began to chuckle softly. _I guess my luck didn't decide to take a day off after all--I'd say this means we'll definitely be seeing each other again..._


	10. Chapter 10

It had been a little over a week since the picnic in the park. Natalie could still remember the note it had ended on--the freak rain, getting trapped in the gazebo, the kiss she and Chance had shared. They'd been out several times since then, both during the day and on her night off. Amanda Cohen had seen them once, and they'd run into Schanke several times while renting movies. She wondered if others from work had also seen them, since the station was filled with rumors and uncomfortable glances.

Nick no longer spoke to her, not even about a case. He showed up when she had to check on his progress--his all-important cure, of course--but at these times, he'd been uncommunicative and getting him to answer her questions was like pulling...well, in his case, fangs. He would, however, stare at her from afar, watching her with an unreadable expression on his face.

Nat felt bad. She liked Chance a lot, and there was a hint that something serious could happen between them, but Nick had changed so drastically in one week that she hardly knew him.

Schanke said he'd started going to the Raven every night after work. He didn't know *why*, but that told Nat that Nick wasn't staying at the loft much. Then she overheard two officers commenting on the apparent end of "whatever it was" between Detective Knight and the ME...

 _"He doesn't seem to be taking it too hard," one had said._

 _"No kidding," the other replied. "I saw him on my night off, at that spooky club he frequents. He was dancing with the babe who owns the joint."_

 _The first cop had whistled in what Nat assumed to be admiration. "I've seen her before, all right. Gotta admit, Knight's got good taste in women."_

Perhaps the most important change was that Nick no longer seemed to care about their research together, or being cured--at least, by her. She was beginning to be afraid that things wouldn't go back to normal (whatever that was) after the photographer left.

 _Don't think about that,_ Nat scolded herself silently, studying her reflection with a frown. _He's not leaving for a few more days yet._ With an irony that was not lost on her, she forced her thoughts back to the problem with Nick, and to the cause of it--Janette. She'd worked the morning shift today to avoid the gossip, and had just stepped out of a warm, relaxing bath. Well...it hadn't really been all that relaxing, with these thoughts running through her head. If Chance had been around, she would have had a diversion, but he'd heard about another club outside of Toronto that might fit his essay, and had left yesterday to check it out. He was back now, but would be busy with his pictures for most of the day, or sleeping off the rigors of the trip, which he had described to her as "typically eventful."

Not that Nat minded Chance being out of the picture tonight. She'd made plans, some of which were a long time in coming. Earlier in the day she'd called Nick at his cell phone number, inviting him to come over so they could discuss their research. She'd been re-reading it (which was true) and had found something interesting that she hadn't noticed before (which was not). The bait worked, and Nick had accepted. So, it was time to put Phase Two of her plan into action.

Phase Two involved Janette, or rather, getting her out of the way. Nat planned, very bravely, she thought, to go to the Raven before sunset and confront the proprietress. She meant to make it very clear that Nick no longer needed her or her comforting.

No, now would not be a good time to bring Chance into things. She needed everything to go right tonight, with no interference from his luck, or him.

Natalie took one last look in the mirror before grabbing the car keys and embarking on her mission. She hoped she looked determined enough to convince Janette to back off.

* * *

(The Raven...)

Delia sat at the bar with Janette. They had been discussing "girl things," but now she fell silent, staring at the mortal woman who had just entered the club. She indicated that her sister should identify the woman, who was now making her way towards them.

Janette turned to Natalie with a look of surprise. "Doctor Lambert! What a pleasant surprise, isn't it, Delia?" The girlish Enforcer smiled.

"Quite a surprise. This is Nicholas's woman, then?"

The proprietress threw a glance at the coroner as she responded. "The same...although he tells me she's jilted him for a mortal. I always knew it would happen."

The two vampires exchanged evil smiles as Delia rose from her stool. She smiled again at Nat, causing her to shiver.

"Most likely she's here to see Nicholas. I'll go fetch him." She started to walk away.

"No," Nat spoke at last. "I came to speak to Janette. This is no concern of Nick's."

Delia shrugged and disappeared into the back rooms.

She found Nick lurking in the shadows. His face was an open book of torment.

"She shouldn't be here," he hissed.

"I most certainly agree," Delia replied. Both settled in to listen.

  


(What they overheard...)

When the creepy girl had left, Nat turned to Janette, who was still smiling at her. The smile, which had been as evil as the child's, now seemed amused, mocking.

"You wish to speak to _moi_?" she asked. "Why, whatever for? We have nothing in common."

"We do, Janette. We have Nick." She spoke in what she hoped was a steady voice. Confronting the vampiress who sought to steal the man she loved away from her did scare her a bit. Just a little.

" _Oui_...there is _Nicolas_. I hadn't thought of him." She smiled. "Of course, my _Nicolas_ is so much different from yours. I hardly see the commonalities."

"He's the same man, Janette. There is no 'mine' and 'yours.'"

"Oh, really?" Janette sounded intrigued. "Then why does he exclude you from his life? The life he has with me?"

Nat swallowed nervously. It seemed like the other woman was toying with her. Any minute now, she would pounce, like a cat on a mouse.

"You. He does it because of you." Janette's eyebrow shot up, but she maintained an amused silence. Nat continued. "The more time Nick spends with you, the less he believes he can be with me."

"So?" The coroner could almost see the leftover canary feathers in the vampire's cat-like smile. "What do you care? You have a new project."

She meant Chance, of course, and Nat knew it but chose to ignore it. "I care about Nick. I want to help him find his cure. You...you're standing in his way. The more he's here, the more of a vampire he becomes."

"Is it only the cure you wish for?" Janette responded coolly. "Is Nicolas a challenge for you? A scientific game? How do you care about him, Natalie?"

"It isn't a game--not to me," Nat stammered angrily. "I love him, and I want him to be free to love me back. If you loved him, you'd let him go. He doesn't need you." There! She'd said it.

To her dismay, the vampire laughed, her voice the sound of lilting bells. "How do you know he even loves you? I know him. I know his heart and his soul. It is to me that he turns for comfort, because he knows I have this knowledge. He will never love you enough to burden you with his problems, because you are his problem. I think you mistake his desire for a cure for love--Nicolas is using you, Natalie...for professional reasons. He does not love you. I suggest you give up the foolish fancy that he does and move on with your life."

Natalie stepped back as if she'd been slapped. Janette's words stung to the heart. No, she thought, desperate not to believe it. Then another thought occurred to her: Nick had only agreed to come to her apartment because of the "new development" she'd made up. "No, that's not true," she whispered, unsure.

"Isn't it? I can see you know the truth; it's in your eyes."

When the coroner remained standing there in stunned silence, Janette pointed to the door. "I think you should leave...Dr. Lambert."

Nat turned, eyes down and brimming with tears, and hurried from the club. The other woman's bell-like laughter followed her out.

* * *

Nick gasped. "She loves me! She really loves me!" He turned ecstatic eyes to Delia. "We could get married someday, have children, be a family! She loves me, Delia!!"

The joy melted away when he saw the cold look in her eyes.

"Nicholas," her voice sounded disappointed. "You can never be with her. She's mortal. She's our prey!"

"If the cure--"

Delia cut him off. "Your cure doesn't exist, Nicholas. You'll never find it. Accept the truth."

"But, Delia, Nat loves me!" Nick protested.

"What about Janette? She loves you too," the child-vampire retorted.

He looked crushed. "I know. I...I love her, too."

"And Natalie?" Delia asked. She seemed unable to believe he could love both.

"Yes. For different reasons, of course. Janette has always been a part of my life, but Natalie holds the promise of humanity and light...I do love them both."

"But which will you be happy with, Brother?" It was the first time since he'd known her that Delia hadn't sounded superior. That took him by surprise.

"I..." He fidgeted. "I don't know."

The girl-vampire looked both uncomfortable and sympathetic. Then, without warning, she changed the subject.

"I've decided to make myself known to Chance Harper. Does he know about Enforcers?" Her voice became commanding again.

"No. I never told him." Nick looked nervous. "Don't hurt Chance, Delia. He's harmless, I swear."

"Can he be trusted?"

"We've trusted Nat," Nick answered. "She's never betrayed us. I don't think he will either."

"Natalie Lambert told Mr. Harper about us, in case you forgot."

"All things considered, he would have figured it out on his own if she hadn't! Come on, Delia, give the guy a break!"

"I have to see for myself, Nicholas. My superiors won't accept your word of honor." Her sneering tone hurt him.

"Whatever," he relented sadly. "Make sure Chance knows I argued in his behalf."

By this time, darkness had covered Toronto. Nick left the club in search of Natalie, and Delia also left a short while later...to fulfill her oath to her race.


	11. Chapter 11

Chance was watching a late-night talk show in his hotel room when Delia appeared before him. He looked startled, but only for a moment.

"I'd ask how you did that, but I think I know--you're a vampire, aren't you?"

The girl Enforcer had expected him to be scared. Instead, his calm, blasé attitude unbalanced her. "How'd you know?" she asked, despite the obvious answer.

Chance flashed her a lopsided grin. "Well...I'm no expert on vampires, but I do know that mortals can't do what you just did. Except for maybe David Copperfield."

Delia had to laugh. Harper had a point. But her humor quickly turned to anger at him for briefly distracting her from her task, and her laughter died. "Do you know why I'm here, Mr. Harper?"

Chance shook his head.

"How much did Dr. Lambert tell you about my kind?"

"That you exist. That Detective Knight and Ms. DuCharme are both vampires. And that there is a community of you in this city."

"And would it surprise you to know that the club Nicholas took you to was an establishment which caters to vampires?" Delia asked, her cold voice expectant. She thought she knew the answer.

"The Raven?" Chance thought back to the beautiful yet spooky woman who'd tried to brainwash him that night, and put it together with what he knew of Janette. "No, it wouldn't surprise me."

She smiled. That had been the response she was expecting. "Would you be surprised, then, to learn that every single club you've been to since you began this assignment has been one of ours?"

He laughed. _Just my luck._ "No. They all seemed alike--I know why, now." Chance stared at her as if trying to read her unspoken thoughts. "You didn't come here just to tell me that, did you?"

The child vampire shook her head. "Natalie Lambert told you that we live in communities, preferably in a metropolitan area. Did she tell you anything about our Communities?"

He shook his head. "She said I should just accept what I knew, and then try to forget about it."

"She is wise, but the time has come that you must know." She drew in a sharp breath. "Our Communities are governed by a Code, which states, among other things, that mortals must never know of our existence. There are other rules as well, but you don't need to know them."

Chance nodded. "But some people do know," he said. "You hypnotize them, right?"

Delia sighed. "Yes, this is true. But occasionally some, like you and Dr. Lambert, can resist our powers. These are a danger to us. Sometimes, they help us, are our friends. Dr. Lambert has covered for the stupider members of this Community on many occasions when they made mistakes. That is why she is still alive."

The photographer's eyes widened in realization. "If she didn't help you, you wouldn't let her live?" When she nodded, he grimaced. "You're here to kill me." It wasn't a question.

The girl Enforcer nodded. "I am...a police officer of sorts. I, and those like me, keep the Communities from breaking the Code, and we prevent Resistors from sharing what they know. I was sent here to deal with you, and I've been following you for some time."

"But you haven't killed me yet--why?"

"I began to believe you might just be stumbling upon these clubs haphazardly. But after what happened at The Raven--your pictures--I can no longer allow you the benefit of the doubt."

Chance realized he probably looked as scared as he felt right now, but he had always been able to trust his luck, so he kept those fears under tight control. If it could get him into this mess, surely it could get him out of it, too. Hopefully alive.

Delia saw that he was growing pale, but still remained calm. The man was amazing! "Nicholas has argued on your behalf, Mr. Harper. He's done everything in his power to convince me you are innocent and won't compromise us." _In spite of the fact that you've stolen his pet mortal._ "That's another reason I'm here: to see for myself."

"I won't tell anyone," Chance promised. "I planned to give the pictures to Nick, so they wouldn't fall into the wrong hands. But they were stolen--"

"I know. I stole them." The tiny vampire held out a hand to the photographer, pulling him from his seat. "Come with me, Mr. Harper."

* * *

She took him to the park where he and Natalie had their first date. For a long time, they just talked, primarily about what Chance knew about vampires. The child Enforcer seemed to have formed an opinion, although she wasn't forthcoming with it when he asked. The photographer was beginning to feel awkward. He'd been friendly with the vampire-child, and now he had the feeling she wanted to be friendly, too.

Delia watched him closely. All night he'd been smiling and joking with her, and although she knew it must be forced, she couldn't help but flatter herself that he really was having a good time. He was scared, but not as much as he could--no, should--have been. Even now, he continued to amaze her. Had the circumstances been different, Delia could have liked Chance Harper. He reminded her so much of someone. Someone she had known once upon a time...

>  _"Father, no. I don't want another tutor. I already know more than anyone you could possibly bring here," Delia whined at LaCroix. "I detest all these lies. You know that."_
> 
>  _"I do, but I also know that we must keep up appearances, my dear. We are a very wealthy family. If my daughter does not know art and music, we will be considered uncouth. You must have the proper education befitting a child of the aristocracy."_
> 
>  _"Well, I don't want it!" Delia screamed at him. "I'm six hundred years old! I'm tired of you using me!"_
> 
>  _Lucien LaCroix studied his daughter thoughtfully. "Very well," he said. "After Marcus, you shall have no more tutors."_
> 
>  _"I don't want him! Send him away, Father," begged Delia._
> 
>  _"I regret that I cannot. I have entered into a contract with the boy's father, and that contract cannot be broken. The boy will be paid for his services. Now, if you've no further objections, I shall show the boy in."_
> 
>  _LaCroix exited the Delia's rooms and returned with a tall young man at his side._ Boy, _Delia thought as her eyes roamed over him._ He's no boy. He's a god. _That last thought was accompanied by the silent sighing of her heart. Her father's "boy" was just about the most handsome man she had ever seen._
> 
>  _"Now there, boy," LaCroix said, breaking into Delia's daydream. "My daughter has recently been very ill. She is not to leave these rooms and under no circumstance is she to venture out of doors. You are not to ask questions. I hired you to teach her music and poetry, and that is all you shall do."_
> 
>  _"Yes sir," the young man replied. "I understand, sir."_
> 
>  _"Good," LaCroix said with a slight smile. Turning, he exited the room, leaving Delia alone with her young god._

 _Marcus,_ Delia thought sadly. _He reminds me of Marcus. They... they even look alike, sort of. No,_ Delia silently amended. Marcus was a young Adonis. While Chance Harper did remind her of her former tutor, it was not his because of his physique. It was his eyes. There was something in the way Chance's eyes twinkled when he smiled, so like Marcus's, that caused her to remember what had happened so long ago...

>  _Days had passed, and then weeks. Delia no longer seemed to mind having a new tutor. In fact, she lived for the few daylight hours when Marcus came to her rooms. He played the piano for her and read her poetry from huge manuscripts._
> 
>  _One day, he produced a poem that he had written himself. "It's something new," he said. "The masters call it a sonnet. Would you like to hear it?"_
> 
>  _"Oh, yes!" Delia said eagerly._
> 
>  _Marcus began to speak, his words like music in her ears. The sonnet was about a beautiful, beautiful young woman who was being admired from afar. Delia listened with rapt attention, hoping Marcus would tell her that the woman was her._
> 
>  _"It was lovely," she told him when he finished._
> 
>  _"Do you think so?"_
> 
>  _"I do! It was the best thing you've ever read to me," she insisted._
> 
>  _Marcus colored slightly. "Good. I.. I hoped you would like it. I... I wrote it for..." he paused, blushing further still. Delia was momentarily distracted by the sound of his heart as its beat increased. "...for a girl in town that I like. I think I want to marry her. I thought maybe if you liked it, then she would as well."_
> 
>  _Delia heard little past the part about hoping to marry. _He didn't write it for me,_ she thought forlornly. _ He doesn't love me.
> 
>  _Unaware of her heart breaking, Marcus put the poem inside his coat and began to pick up his things. "By the way," he commented, "your father has informed me that this will be our last session. I'm going to miss you, Delia." As he spoke, he turned back towards her and was greeted by a pair of glowing eyes and a set of fangs._
> 
>  _Delia, having been both saddened that her love could love another and angered that he was leaving her, lunged at him. Grabbing him in a tight embrace, she bit deeply into his neck and drank until he went limp in her arms._

Without warning, Delia strode away from Chance. Then, tears brimming in her eyes, she sank to her knees at the base of the nearest tree.

The photographer followed her and knelt down beside her. "Delia, what is it? Have I done something wrong? Is this about your decision?"

At first, Delia ignored him. All she wanted was to be rid of him, but she wasn't about to kill him. The memory of killing Marcus was still fresh in her mind, and it hurt her. She'd thought that Marcus did not love her, but when she took his blood, she'd learned that girl he spoke of was her. Marcus had intended to ask LaCroix if they could become betrothed. By the time all the negotiations between the two families had been conducted, and a generous period of engagement had passed, Delia would be old enough to marry. She was twelve, and marriage was only a few years away, or so he had thought.

"Delia?" Chance's questioning voice broke into her thoughts. She looked up at him, blood tears in her eyes.

"I have decided," she said at last. "You are a good man, Mr. Harper, and you are leaving soon. I know that now." Her voice, which had been harsh at first, softened. "Chance...I'm not going to do what I was sent here to do. If you promise not to ever return to any of these clubs, and to forget about vampires, I'll let you go."

"I promise. I already told Nick I would," said Chance. Delia looked like she was going to start crying again. Although he didn't know what was wrong, Chance hated to see anyone cry. "There's something wrong. What is it? You might feel better if you tell someone," he told her, offering his ear to her problem.

Delia shook her head in amazement. Instinct told her she should have killed him, but she, like Nick, had taken a liking to him.

"Chance, please, just go," she begged him. "Dawn will come soon, and I want to be alone. You're free. No one will hurt you after I give my report. Just, please, go now."

He nodded and hesitantly left her.

* * *

As Chance left the park and walked along the sidewalk, still trying to figure out what had been going on in the park, a blur of mint green streaked past him. There was only one vehicle on the road with that particular paint job--Nick's Caddy.

He let instinct take over and sprinted after the blur. It was forced to stop in a crowded intersection. The young punk he and Natalie had seen drive the car out of the hotel parking garage was inside. He flashed the photographer a grin. "Like my wheels?"

"Yeah, except for one problem. They aren't yours." He attempted to pull the thief from the car, while onlookers in the other lanes stared. The two men struggled for a while, then the thief broke free and bolted down a blind alley.

Delia suddenly appeared next to Chance. "I'll get him. You bring the car," she hissed. He nodded and hopped in the car.

When he pulled the Caddy up to the curb near the alley, he saw her struggling with the man. He couldn't figure out why she wasn't winning, until he saw the ornate silver cross in the punk's hand. He was pressing it to Delia's chest.

Chance rushed over just as she managed to crush the creep's windpipe. The young man slumped to the ground in a heap. Delia collapsed in the photographer's arms. "He had a cross," she whispered.

Her chest was a mass of burnt tissue and blood. "How do I help you?" he asked, frightened this time for her.

"Nick--get me to Nick." She passed out uttering the words.

Chance lay her gently in the Caddy's back seat and drove to the loft. The detective wasn't there, but it was unlocked, so he carried her up to Nick's bed and called the Raven.

Janette answered the phone.

"Ms. DuCharme? It's me, Chance Harper, the photographer. Is Detective Knight there?"

"No, he isn't. He had an appointment with his doctor. May I be of service?" she asked.

Chance swallowed. "Yeah--I'm at his loft. I found the Caddy. Delia killed the guy who stole it, but she's hurt. I think she's dying."

Janette gasped. "Someone will be right there."

"Great. What do I do with the Caddy?"

"Take it home. Or...Nicholas was at Natalie Lambert's tonight. Maybe he's still there. Go find him. I really don't care what you do with it." She hung up abruptly.

* * *

Don Schanke started when he saw Chance Harper pull up before his hotel in a mint green, classic Cadillac. There was no question about the vehicle's identity, since the color and enormous trunk were unique in Toronto. It was Nick's stolen car.

His mind drifted back to his conversation with Captain Cohen. Could the photographer really be a criminal? He seemed so nice! Nick trusted him; Nat was dating him. Was it possible that he'd been conning them all this whole time?

Finally, suspicion won out over emotion and Schanke jumped out of his parked car, slamming the door loudly behind him. "Hold up, Harper. I wanna talk to you."

The surprised, chagrined look on the other man's face was all the confirmation he needed, and Schanke swore silently. _Damn it, Harper, I really wanted to believe in you._

When he reached Chance's side, he pulled out his badge and nodded towards the car. "I'm afraid you're under arrest."

* * *

(meanwhile...)

Nick surprised Janette by showing up at the Raven right after she'd hung up on Chance. His face was grim from whatever had taken place with Natalie, and it became even grimmer when she told him about Delia. Together with LaCroix, they went to the loft.

All three stood helplessly by the bed. The cross had bitten into her chest too near the heart. Chance was right--she was dying.

LaCroix wept over her. Delia, of all his children, reminded him the most of his beloved natural daughter. She was the angel Divia never had been--just and fair, gentle and compassionate. Where Divia had been a monster, Delia's kind heart more than made up for it. She was the child he had always wanted.

Her father's tears woke her for the last time. "It seems we've done this before, Father," she whispered, smiling weakly. "But chicken broth won't save me now."

"No, it won't. Daughter, I..." The ancient vampire faltered, at a loss for words.

Nick was speechless. He had assumed his Enforcer sister looked down on him. Janette smiled gently.

Delia was suddenly plagued by a fit of coughing. Blood trickled from her mouth. When the fit past, she said, "My time is short. Chance Harper is a good man. Father, tell them he is not a threat..." Another coughing attack ensued, and as it ended, she closed her eyes.

LaCroix took her hand, kneeling beside the bed. "She is dead, Lucien," Janette stated softly.

"I know that!" he snapped. "Leave us, please. I wish to be alone with my daughter."

Nick placed a hand over LaCroix's as it lay on the bed. He had no idea that in another year's time he would be comforting his master over the death of another daughter. Since their relationship was edgy and strained, he didn't know what to say.

The older vampire spared him the awkward scene by shrugging the hand away. "Go, Nicholas. Please, just go. I wasted enough time on you when I should have been with my other children. Now one of them is dead, mostly because of you. Just go."

Janette led Nick out of the bedroom. In the living room, they stared at each other in shock.

"He blames me--why?" he asked.

"Grief. They were close, Nicolas. I don't know the bond between them, but it was strong. She was one of the first he ever created..." She fell silent.

"He lost track of a lot of them after I came along," he said. "It's a wonder she didn't hate me."

"Delia was special. There wasn't a jealous, hateful bone in her body, Nicolas. Lucien blames you now, but he'll get over it, you'll see."

As they spoke, the phone rang. Nick picked it up, then set it down again a moment later, swearing softly in French.

"That was Schanke. He arrested Chance for the theft of my car. I need to go bail him out...but I can't." His eyes strayed to the shuttered windows. Outside, the sun was shining brightly.


	12. Chapter 12

Natalie rushed over to Nick as soon as he arrived at the precinct. She looked weary and disheveled and immediately latched onto him as if he were a life preserver. "Nick, thank God you're here! They've arrested Chance! I've tried to reason with them, but they won't--"

"I know, Nat. I know," he said, steadying her with his arm. In her frantic state, he feared she would collapse at any moment-- or, quite possibly, explode. "Schanke called me earlier. I got here as soon as I could."

"Oh, yes, Schanke. That exasperating partner of yours," Nat said cryptically.

Nick raised his eyebrows. "Have a falling out with my partner, as well, Nat?" His voice was sarcastic. He could have said worse, however. After the last night, when she reamed him out about something he was sure he hadn't done, he felt betrayed by her. He shouldn't have cared. But this was Nat--his Nat--and no matter how things were now, he was sure they would get better.

"Falling out? No. It was more like a difference of opinion," she replied, going off into a long, rambling tirade about how every time she tried to explain to Schanke how decent and honest Chance was, he made things more difficult by criticizing her. "He told me I should get better taste in men!" she concluded indignantly.

At this, Nick's lips split into a wry grin. "I'm sure Schanke was just trying to look out for you, Nat. You have a habit of falling in with some pretty unscrupulous characters, after all."

"Like you, Nick?" she snapped.

"Well, no. That's not who I was thinking of," Nick replied, his voice losing its edge and growing thoughtful. Their eyes met in understanding, and Nat said no more.

"How is Chance holding up?" Nick asked, suddenly feeling the need to bring the conversation back to the problem at hand.

"Amazingly well. He hasn't complained once." Nat looked up at Nick pleadingly, "How are we going to get him out of this?" She'd unconsciously taken his hand, squeezing it tightly. She seemed so helpless, so dependent on him. Nick felt the remainder of his bitterness dwindling away. What replaced it was hope. If he saved Chance, then maybe Nat would forgive him.

"I'll figure something out," he told her, kissing her forehead out of habit. She let him for that same reason.

Nick left her seated at his desk, looking both hopeful and nervous. Grabbing his partner and yanking him into an empty room, he said, "Schanke, we need to talk." His voice took on a hypnotic resonance as he began to tell Schanke that Chance had not stolen the Caddy and had merely been returning it to him. "The Caddy was abandoned when Chance found it," Nick concluded.

"Abandoned," Schanke echoed blankly.

Nick smiled at his partner and clapped him on the shoulder. As an after thought, he added, "Oh, and Schanke... go apologize to Natalie for all the rude things you said to her tonight. It really upset her." Schanke nodded slowly and headed for Nick's desk.

Still smiling, Nick watched his partner approach the coroner, then made his way into Amanda Cohen's office.

* * *

Nick found Chance in a holding cell, sitting on a lonely cot with a far away expression on his face.

"Hey, Chance," he said awkwardly.

The photographer turned to face him. "Hey."

Nick dangled the keys in front of the bars. "Ready to go?" he asked, a smile on his face. Chance sprang to his feet.

"How'd you do it?" he asked. "Nat's been trying all day to get me released."

"Sometimes hypnotic suggestion can be a very useful talent," Nick told him, opened the cell to allow Chance his freedom. "Now, come on! We have one very distraught lady on our hands upstairs."

Before they left the holding area, Chance stopped Nick. Placing a hand on the vampire's shoulder, he began to speak. "Nick..." he paused, unsure of how to broach the subject. "About Delia...how is she?"

Their eyes met, and Nick shook his head sadly. "She told us what you did for her, Chance," Nick told him. "I never..." Now Nick paused awkwardly, searching for the right words. "I never really knew my sister very well, and now it is too late. Thanks to you, though, I at least know she wasn't just another cold heart. It gives me hope for myself."

"I'm glad I could do that much, then," Chance told Nick quietly.

* * *

"Chance!" Nat squealed as she threw herself shamelessly into his arms. What did it matter if the entire precinct saw them? Most knew they were an item now anyway. They hugged and then separated, both smiling. "Thank you, Nick," said Nat, surprising him with a hug as well-- brief though it was.

Natalie and Chance left the precinct together, with Nick following them from a distance.

"Nat!" he called after her from the top of the stairs. "Nat!" he repeated when at first she didn't stop or seem to have heard him. When she did stop at last and turn in his direction, he all but flew down the stairs to her side. "Nat, I was wondering..." he began, pulling her away from Chance's side, "about that hug...does that mean I'm forgiven?" He gave her his best little boy smile, the one that usually melted her heart.

Nat fixed him with an unreadable stare. Now that the crisis had passed, her anger at him had returned. "I haven't decided yet," she told him, jerking out of his grip and returning to Chance.

They left, and Nick gazed longingly after them. For a moment, he felt as if his effort on Chance's behalf had been wasted, but an annoying little voice in the back of his mind reminded him that, in spite of himself, he couldn't help but like the guy.

* * *

(Toronto Airport)

"Nat... we need to talk."

Natalie lifted her eyes to his with a sad smile. It wasn't difficult to figure out what she and Chance needed to talk about. She nodded. "I know."

Chance reached out to brush a curl away from her eyes, marveling once again at how her hair seemed to mingle the best elements of red, brown, and gold.

"You have come to mean so much to me over the past few weeks, Nat, that I can hardly believe it." He smiled--that infectious smile that she couldn't help but return. "But I'm not a part of your world, just a gypsy wandering through it. I can't stay here any more than you can leave it. I honestly don't know if I'll ever be back, and I won't ask you to hang on to such a slim hope. Who knows what might happen to you while I'm gone? You could meet someone else, or Nick might suddenly realize what a treasure he's been taking for granted these past few years."

Nat laughed curtly. "Like that will ever happen."

"Hey, stranger things have happened, and I think I've seen most of them." Then he sobered again. "It's your choice, Nat. If you want to stay together, just say the word, and I'm yours as long as you want me. If not...just consider me a friend from afar to be called upon whenever and for however long you need me."

The question was not unexpected, but Nat hadn't anticipated how hard it would be to answer. The choice should be easy, when considering the dramatic difference in the way the two men had treated her. She realized, however, with a flood of shame that her involvement with Chance had begun as nothing more than a way of getting back at Nick for the pain he'd caused her. That game had nearly cost the photographer his life, and even now, standing here on the verge of heartbreak over his impending departure, she couldn't say for certain that her motives were any purer.

She dropped her eyes before he could read that realization in them. "I'm sorry, Chance."

The last spark of hope faded from his eyes. With her silent consent, he bent down to give her one last fleeting kiss on the lips. "Promise you'll call if ever you need me?"

Nat nodded, as there was nothing more to say. He turned towards the gate, and Nat watched him disappear though it, hoping she hadn't made a mistake in letting him go.


End file.
